


Echoes of the Florentine Ruins

by ZerosGirl01



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Ezio is Sassy, M/M, NSFW, Rimming, Unedited Again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3344393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZerosGirl01/pseuds/ZerosGirl01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sassy-ass Assassins</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes of the Florentine Ruins

“Niccolò Machiavelli is my beautiful, talented genius and I love him!”

La Volpe’s voice echoed throughout the chamber, disturbing a few bats and dying off somewhere in the distance. When his resounding voice died down, he opened his mouth wide for another go, but was cut off with a hand smacking the back of his head.

“Shut up, Gilberto.” Machiavelli retracted his hand a fraction of an inch and massaged it through his lover’s dark hair. “We’re down here with a purpose, love.”

The thief all but purred and leaned into the young assassin’s body, “I am aware of why we are under our beautiful city, but,” he reached around and grabbed at the firm ass of his lover, “that does not mean we cannot explore other activities as well.”

He heard Niccolò chuckle and titled his head back to catch a glimpse of the smile he knew graced the young face.

“You are insatiable.”

“And you’re adorable.”

“And a grown man.”

“With a fine ass.”

“And a strong enough kick to throw you off the edge.”

The thief yelped when he was pushed with a strong knee to the back of his legs. Years of flinging himself off buildings kept him from toppling to the water five yards below him. He grabbed onto the ledge as soon as he felt himself pitch forward, his body moving on muscle memory. His torso slammed against the hard stones and he pulled himself back up where Machiavelli was smirking at him.

Safe at his lover’s feet, La Volpe knelt for a heartbeat before he threw himself forward and tackled the assassin to the stones.

“Shit, Volpe!”

The older man crawled over Niccolò’s lithe body and growled low in his throat, “Naughty, naughty boy, _tesoro_.”

Machiavelli squirmed and tried to dislodge the thief as he made his way up his legs and perched himself on his lap, a queer smile gracing his features.

“Gilberto, we need to—mgh.”

La Volpe leaned forward and captured his Niccolò’s lips and kissed him. He groaned and ran his hands over his lover’s cheeks and into his dark curls, delving his tongue into the assassin’s mouth and moaning when his kiss was returned. Hands found their way to the back of his neck and he felt Niccolò’s hard cock arched against ass.

“Mmm Machia,” he said, grinding down on his lover’s lap, “let me ride you.”

Niccolò groaned deep in his throat and rocked his hips up to meet his lover’s. His hands left Volpe’s hair and went to his throat, unclasping the thief’s cape and hood and pushed it down his back until his hands grabbed at the tight ass.

He heard La Volpe gasp and he kneaded the flesh in his hands, eliciting a breathy chuckle from above him.

“That is definitely not a no.”  


Machiavelli cracked a smile and tugged at the older man’s hose. He pulled them as far as they could go with Volpe’s boots still clinging to his calves. The thief cursed, sat up and yanked the confining garments off, followed quickly by his hose.

Once freed from his clothes, the thief reached between their bodies and pulled his young lover’s own hose down and lifted his long tunic. Niccolò hissed at the chill air on his exposed length.

“Fuck, Gilberto,” he groaned, Volpe sitting on his hips and his ass rubbing against his cock, “oil.”

 Their eyes met and Volpe let his head fall to his lover’s chest. They lay for a couple more heartbeats until Niccolò flipped them.

Volpe’ violet eyes went wide as he peered between his legs at the young assassin smiling reassuringly. He lifted the thief’s legs and he bent his head until all Volpe could see was the top of his curls. Hot breath puffed against his entrance and he whined.

“Ah, _tesoro.”_

Niccolò squeezed his lover’s thighs before kissing the muscle around his lover and biting at the quivering flesh. Volpe arched further into the air and Machiavelli spread his ass and tongued at his entrance.

“Christ, Niccolò!”

The younger man paid no mind to his lover’ shouts echoing around him, though he filed the information away for later. He let one of Volpe’s legs drop and push against the hard stones, and grasped his lover’s weeping cock. The thief cried out, his muscles taut and his hands clamoring for purchase. His whipped from side to side, his nonsensical whines and half-words bouncing around them.

Machiavelli twisted and pulled at his the thief’s proud cock and hummed into his ass.

“N-Niccolò,” he moaned, a shaking hand pushing his lover’s mouth away from his entrance, “I’m come if you keep that up.”

“Can’t control yourself, Gilberto?” he teased, “You must be losing your touch in your old age.”

Volpe narrowed his eyes at his lover and opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as Niccolò grabbed his hands and pulled him until he was sitting back on his lap.

“C’mon, _amore_ , I want to see you ride me.”

A shudder made its way down La Volpe’s spine. He lifted his ass and slid himself down on his lover’s hard length. He whined at the stretch, the benefit of oil not escaping his mind.

“You alright, Gilberto?”

The thief nodded, his eyes closed tight. He let gravity take hold until he felt Niccolò’s flesh caress his ass. He sighed and wiggled his hips until he felt the pain ebb and sparks of pleasure pool in his cock.

“God, you’re so tight.”

Volpe squeezed his ass and rocked, letting Niccolò’s length slide in him, until the young assassin threw his head back to the stones, made warm by their bodies.

He bent down and kissed his young lover, moaning into his hot mouth. His hips lifted higher and he pressed them down, fucking himself deep with Niccolò thrusting slowly into him.

Their pace was slow, the sounds of their joining resounding off the walls of the cavern until Machiavelli grabbed his lover’s ass and brought him down hard onto his length. Volpe gasped and threw his head back. He let Niccolò take control, bringing his hips up and jerking him down, thrusting deep into his body at the same time.

His shouts grew in volume until one over shadowed the next and the echoes following.

“F-fuck, Niccolò, I’m—"

The assassin growled and flipped them once more, slamming again into Volpe’s body and grasping at his weeping cock.

“Come for me, Gilberto.”

Volpe whined, his climax so close, but he wanted nothing more than to stay here and fuck and be fucked, and hear his tesoro’s cries bounce off these stone walls.

His eyes clenched shut as Niccolò’s thrusts shortened and the pounded against his prostate.

“Niccolò!” He shouted, hot bursts of his seed streaming from his cock and he collapsed to the stones.

Machiavelli thrust into his lover twice more before coming inside his lover and falling onto his torso, listening to the last of his lover’s voice echo off the walls.

The cavern grew quiet, only the sound of their combined panting filled its chamber. Volpe shivered once he was aware of the cold seeping into his backside, despite their combined body heat.

Niccolò lifted himself up on shaky arms and caressed sweaty hair from La Volpe’s face.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked.

“I would be better if there was a way we could lie here longer without my ass freezing to the rock.”

The young assassin rolled his eyes and stood, stretching his arms over his head and rolling his shoulders.

“Mmm,” Volpe hummed following suit and reaching for his discarded clothes, “now that is a sight I would kill to look at for eternity.”

“You kill for lesser things, Gilberto.”

“True, though if the opportunity arose…”

They grew quiet once more, La Volpe pulling his hose and boots back on, grimacing at the mess smearing the inside of his pants, and Niccolò, lost in thought and gazing about the silent chamber.

The thief came up behind him and circled his arms around his waist, nuzzling at the still sweaty neck and damp curls, “So, what are we down here for?”

“There are some chests with a couple thousand Florins hidden down here, and Ezio has marked them on the map for us.” He pulled from his tunic a small bit of parchment. Unfolded, Volpe peered over his shoulder and barked out a laugh.

Without a word, Niccolò Machiavelli crumbled the paper in his hand and threw it over the edge, turned and kissed the thief hard.

“Better get used to the cold, my love, Ezio has just signed our vacation time.”

 

 


End file.
